


A Vested Interest

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: A Matter of Interest [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Developing Relationship, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Sex, Episode: s16e05 Pornstar's Requiem, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Secret Relationship, Undressing, catching feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: “The appeal is about more than just Miss Barnes.” Barba says. “The judge crossed a line and, at the very least, filing the appeal gets that on record. I’d have a shot even without her.”Sonny saw that argument coming and, realizing he can’t talk Barba out of it, decides to switch tactics. “Still, it’s getting pretty late and this has been a rough one for all of us. Why not let it go for tonight? Grab some food and then get some rest.”Barba’s focus sharpens, and Sonny’s tongue goes dry when it lands on him. “I suppose you’re offering to keep me company for one, if not both, of those activities, Detective?”





	A Vested Interest

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for Barba x Carisi so I apologize if some of this comes off as a lot of head-canon. I have so many ideas for these two, but after rewatching **Pornstar's Requiem** , this story was all I could think about. I may continue adding pieces of this particular version of their relationship as I keep rewatching, or I might switch to some of the other plot ideas jumping out at me, but either way I hope you enjoy my small contribution to this lovely pairing ♥

Detective Sonny Carisi takes a steadying breath before he knocks on the door. He waits patiently for a few seconds before he’s being called to enter. He takes one more deep breath and uses the time to pull himself out of a slouch caused by several hours in the car and a disappointing end to his trip.

Manhattan’s Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba looks up from his desk and greets Sonny with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Barba tells him, leaning back and rolling his shoulders. Sonny imagines he’s been sitting there for hours, hunched over paperwork for the appeal. His jacket is hung on the wrought iron rack in the corner of the office and his green tie has been loosened just a fraction at the collar of his pale gray shirt.

“Rollins drove us home. Think she was trying to hit Mach 2 on the freeway.”

“I’m guessing things didn’t go well. You found Miss Barnes?”

Sonny nods. “Yeah, but you might want to hold off on filing the motion to appeal.” He can see the frustration creasing Barba’s brow, the way his eyes flash at the reminder of the judge setting aside the jury’s verdict. “I mean, she’s okay—well, not _okay_ , but she’s made her choice, Counselor. I doubt Evie’s willing to come back for any court appearances. Rollins and I, we couldn't change her mind.”

He lets Barba mull the news over in silence. Sonny wouldn’t blame him for being disappointed—the judge really screwed them over on this one.

“Couldn’t have seen this coming, Counselor.”

“You did,” Barba is quick to say, green eyes raised to study Sonny. “You said as much to me in Benson’s office before we even had a case.”

“But you made the case in court,” Sonny insists. “That jury found Pryor guilty of rape. The judge—he must’ve had his mind made up before the verdict was reached.”

Sonny expects that to incite a reaction. He could use a good distraction after the circumstances under which he and Rollins found Evie Barnes in New Hampshire, and so far nothing gets the job done like a good round of legal back and forth with his favorite prosecutor. He’s only been in Manhattan for a couple of months, and while he likes his new squad just fine, it is Rafael Barba who make Sonny think that this assignment could be the one that sticks.

Instead, Barba slumps in his chair. “Did you come all the way down here to soothe my ego rather than going home, Detective?”

“Figured you wanted to know what happened with Evie.” It’s not as if Barba didn’t know he was coming, Sonny reminds himself. With Rollins focused on breaking land speed records on the way home while she stewed over Evie Barnes’ choice, Sonny found himself texting Barba and asking if he could stop by. He’s been in Manhattan long enough to know that if Barba didn’t want him here, he would have told Sonny in no uncertain terms.

Barba’s blunt, and often brutal honesty could be a slap in the face. Funny enough, it is one of the things Sonny admires most about him. Working a job where almost no one—be they victims, suspects, or fellow officers—tells the truth for one reason or another, honesty is a precious commodity.

“The appeal is about more than just Miss Barnes and her willingness to appear.” Barba says, his voice soft yet serious. “The judge crossed a line and, at the very least, filing an appeal gets that on record. I’d have a shot even without her.”

Sonny saw that argument coming and, realizing he can’t talk Barba out of it, decides to switch tactics. “Still, it’s getting pretty late and this has been a rough one for all of us. Why not let it go for tonight? Grab some food and then get some rest.”

Barba’s focus sharpens, and Sonny’s tongue goes dry when it lands on him. “I suppose you’re offering to keep me company for one, if not both, of those activities, Detective?”

“I may have found a little French-Caribbean fusion place that I’ve been dying to try, if you’re open to suggestions.”

Barba presses his lips together before he says, “Let me guess. It’s close to your apartment, Detective?”

Sonny grins. “Actually, it’s closer to yours.”

~~~

The food is spicy, Sonny’s beer is slick with condensation running down the side of the bottle, and Rafael, for once, appears to be enjoying his beer, too, albeit out of a glass.

Here, now, the energy feels different than when they’re at Forlini’s together. Their usual place is all about the team. Commiseration, camaraderie, strategy. There, it’s difficult to carve out a moment that’s personal, a few precious turns of the clock that aren’t about the job. But tonight, in the little fusion bistro, Sonny can relax and let the low music and savory aromas sink into his veins. He can watch Rafael—not _Barba_ , anymore, not here—unwind as much as a man like him is capable of doing.

While they eat, Sonny studies the lines around Rafael’s mouth, the curve of his lips on the rim of his glass. He’s already shed two layers, his coat and suit jacket, leaving Sonny that much closer to the warm skin he knows is hiding beneath Rafael’s crisp shirt—he can now see that it’s subtly patterned, gray on white—which is locked at his throat by the forest green tie that does a thousand favors for the shade of his eyes. Sonny wants to wrap that bold silk around his fist and use it to pull Rafael across the table, but activities like that will have to wait until they’re somewhere private. The charcoal suspenders are another magnet for Sonny’s stare. He could spend hours tracing the lines with his gaze, sliding his fingers underneath just to feel Rafael take a breath.

Before his steamy imaginings can go any further, Rafael pats his stomach in satisfaction.

“As much as I appreciate the quality of the meal, this was unnecessary, Carisi.”

Sonny might be able to dispense with formalities away from the precinct and the courthouse, but Rafael is another story. At least he drops the _detective_ for the most part, and Sonny can’t bring himself to care.

“Just trying to repay you for everything.”

Rafael sets his beer on the table next to his empty plate, fixing Sonny with a pointed stare. “Repay me?”

“Yeah, for looking out for me since I transferred here.”

“Looking out for you? Is that what we’re calling it...” Rafael’s grin is a perfect match for their surroundings. Dark and seductive. “I’m not familiar with the euphemism.”

In the low light, Rafael might miss the flush on Sonny’s face that’s most certainly there. “You know what I’m talking about. The clothes, the advice about the squad, taking me to your barber shop for that close shave.” Sonny rubs his knuckles against his cheek; he doesn’t exactly miss the moustache he sported when he transferred here, though at the time he thought it was necessary to appear a older, perhaps a shade more experienced.

“I was performing a public service,” Rafael cuts in, lips pursed as if he’s attempting to control his grin.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sonny admits. Last week, when Rafael suggested the visit to his barber, Sonny jumped at the opportunity, some juvenile part of him fascinated by the idea of a classic close-shave. The entire evening turned into a unique experience beyond the fantasy he’d imagined, though. The luxury of the rich cream being brushed onto his face in soothing, circular motions, the scrape of the straight-edged blade, expertly wielded by the salt-and-pepper haired barber, were nothing compared to the way Rafael looked at him afterwards. It was intoxicating to know how much he affected Rafael in that moment, and when he touched Sonny’s cheek and felt the warmth, Sonny thought he would spontaneously combust. 

“You assume I’m looking to be repaid?” Rafael queries, drawing Sonny’s mind back to the bistro. There’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“Not _repaid_ ,” Sonny stresses, leaning forward to keep the conversation as private as possible in the small space. “It’s not like that. I mean, I do feel like I owe you a little bit and I thought this would be nice.”

Rafael matches his movements, bringing his face to within a foot of Sonny’s across the table. “Let me be very clear, Carisi. Everything I did, everything I told you, was done without attached expectations of any kind, other than that you’d use the information to make this transfer _work_.”

Sonny finds himself unable to speak for a few seconds, as if the breath was punched from his lungs by the dangerously earnest look in Rafael’s eyes. When he can speak again, he doesn’t know how to respond, settling on his standby humor.

“Is there a betting pool I don’t know about?” he teases, disappointed to watch some of the heat bleed out of Rafael’s gaze. He can’t help himself. “Bet Rollins had me gone after two weeks.”

Rafael shakes his head and leans away. “Enough, Carisi.” His sigh carries across the table, the weight of it settling on Sonny’s shoulders. “You want to know why I looked out for you?”

“Cause I’m some kind of pet project?” Sonny asks, knowing he’s wrong but desperate for Rafael to say it anyway.

“I did it because I wanted you to last at SVU past a few weeks. The squad’s had more than a few transfers who didn’t last for a number of reasons. At the beginning, I thought you’d be the same, false bravado with nothing to back it up. But you know more than you let on, and everyone underestimated you, including myself. SVU is a tight-knit group, but you’re a good fit for this squad. I thought I could help you show the others that you belong there. That despite your age and lack of assumed experience, you’ve got amazing potential.”

Stunned, Sonny can barely hear himself ask, “What made you so sure?”

Rafael’s expression softens. “You really have to ask that? Have you already forgotten getting one over on Buchanan during your investigation into Daniel Pryor? You convinced his own client to dismiss him, confess, and take a deal so that he could testify against Pryor. I know detectives who’ve been on the force for a decade who can’t claim a victory like that.”

“Didn’t really matter in the end, though,” Sonny reminds him, trying not to think about the way Daniel Pryor was allowed to walk free and failing.

“What matters is you thought your way out of the problem,” Rafael says, waving off their server with a brief gesture before he can approach the table. “I think you can do great things while you’re at SVU, however long that may be. My only intention was to make sure the choice to stay was _yours_ , Carisi.”

It’s certainly not the alcohol from a single beer that has Sonny’s pulse racing. There’s something in the way Rafael says his name—the reason he doesn’t mind hearing it even when they’re not working. Some twist of his tongue, the hint of a rolled _r_ in _Carisi_ that’s so unlike the way ADA Barba says it. Sonny burns with excitement at the sound, and he can determine from a single glance that Rafael knows the effect it has.

Desperate to show that he’s in control and not fighting to stay calm even though the bistro suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, Sonny raises his bottle to his lips and drains the last of his lukewarm beer, never taking his eyes off Rafael.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks when he’s finished, measuring each word carefully.

“Not particularly.”

Sonny flags down their server. “Good.”

Rafael doesn’t bother with the rest of his beer. Sonny doubts he’d abandon his drink so readily if it were scotch, though he’s relieved he rates higher than an imported draft.

He pays, some part of him still intent on showing Rafael that he’s grateful. That he cares. Long glances are traded back and forth across the table as their plates are cleared and Sonny waits for his change. Tip tucked beneath his empty bottle, Sonny’s about to suggest a change in venue when Rafael beats him to it.

“I could use your input on the appeal,” he says casually, though his tone reveals that he couldn’t care less about legal paperwork right now. 

Not that Sonny thinks the prosecutor actually wants his help tonight, but, “Your office?”

“I have the paperwork with me and the scotch is better at my place.”

“Lead the way then, Counselor,” Sonny teases, grinning when Rafael stands and rolls his eyes, and follows him out the door.

~~~

It’s cold outside. Still, they’re willing to walk the four and a half blocks back to Rafael’s building, quiet conversation ranging from Sonny’s family to a tough case study he’s trying to work through in one of his classes at Fordham. Sonny lets his arm brush Rafael’s along the way. He’s not greedy; the hint of contact is enough to keep the arousal buzzing.

When they first came back to Rafael’s apartment several weeks ago, Sonny tried to make the case that his own place was more suitable. Naturally, the prosecutor pointed out that his building’s doorman would be discreet about the fact that they were together. It went back and forth, good-natured ribbing each time they needed to decide where to go. Sonny would argue that there is nothing more discreet than not having a doorman at all, but all Rafael would have to do is remind him about Mrs. Taylor on the first floor of his own building. “I’m sure she keeps detailed records of everyone’s comings and goings,” he would say, leaving Sonny to counter with, “On the plus side, if anything happened, she’d make a pretty reliable witness.”

Sonny likes Rafael’s apartment, though. It suits him. Effortlessly bold yet comfortable with personal touches scattered throughout. He looked his fill the handful of times he’s been here previously; tonight, the last thing he’s interested in is Rafael’s home decor. Not when he can watch Rafael remove his coat and suit jacket, as if they’re standing in his future chambers and he’s disrobing after a long day in court. Sonny takes off his own coat and licks his lips, knowing there’d be hell to pay if he pounced before everything was properly hung. It’s worth the test of patience to just stand by and watch the show.

Sonny himself has been getting used to his updated wardrobe, the higher quality shirts and ties that Rafael helped (okay… _directed_ ) him to choose. It all came together when Sonny had some of his better suits tailored according to Rafael’s suggestions, and he wasn’t too proud to admit the difference those alterations made both in the way the SVU squad perceived him and the way he perceived himself. He looked good—good enough to do more than simply turn Rafael’s head the first time he wore the finished product to the courthouse one Friday afternoon.

The two of them had barely made it into an empty conference room, Sonny possessing just enough sense to lock the door after they stumbled through, before Rafael’s hands were all over him, testing the fit of his remade suit and how closely it hugged the lines of his body.

All of that is nothing compared to the effect Rafael’s clothes have on Sonny, though. When he’s standing in front of Sonny now, fingers reaching up to undo the tie at his throat, Sonny finally reaches the end of his tether. He steps forward, hands covering Rafael’s.

“Allow me.”

“Strange choice for foreplay, Carisi,” Rafael tells Sonny as he’s loosening the green silk, slipping it out from around his neck with a _whoosh_. 

Sonny smiles but doesn’t rise to the bait. They don’t need more foreplay—they can each feel that much when their hips brush together. Dinner and the show Rafael put on took care of that. Right now, Sonny’s going for efficiency, getting them from point A to naked as quickly as possible. He removes the tie, the cufflinks, all while he dropping his chin to tease his lips against Rafael’s, seeing who will crack first (knowing it will probably be him). Finally, Rafael’s suspenders hit the floor and Sonny finds himself being dragged through the doorway and into the bedroom.

The cufflinks and the tie are taken from Sonny’s hands and responsibly deposited on the dresser. It’s such a Barba thing to do and Sonny adores it. That feeling has him grabbing Rafael by the elbow and pulling him back in, kissing him before Rafael can mock him for cracking first.

With Rafael’s hands on his chest, heat begins to build in Sonny’s blood. His tongue moves against Rafael’s, their bodies swaying together. They’ve done this before, half a dozen times spread out in the few months since Sonny met his prickly yet impressive new ADA, and each encounter was different. Special in its own way, whether it was the first blaze of lust or a slower dance when they knew each other better and when they could take their time. But considering the week they’ve had, Daniel Pryor’s trial raking everyone over the coals, Sonny’s plan is to get them both out of their own heads and to forget the world outside this apartment.

Seems as if Rafael has a similar plan; he drops his hands to Sonny’s ass and squeezes, rocking the two of them together.

“You were saying something about foreplay?”

Rafael’s lips skim down the side of Sonny’s neck, words whispered against skin. “Just confirming you’re on board.”

“Always.” The word slips out before Sonny can consider what it means. Sure, he’s a _heart on my sleeve_ kind of guy in the eyes of most of his coworkers, but even he knows better than to confess so much to a man who could use it against him.

Sonny holds his breath, waits for the scoff or rebuke to come, and ends up surprised when Rafael doesn’t react. This close, wrapped around one another a few feet from the bed, Sonny watches Rafael’s pupils dilate momentarily, feels the warmth of his breath on his jaw. If anything, instead of backing away, Rafael is on Sonny with a fierceness that’s unlike anything he’s felt with this man before.

He opens his mouth to say something—no doubt an ill-advised comment about how he meant what he said—but finds the words blocked by Rafael’s tongue. Sonny’s own tie is pulled off and dropped, and he’s too dependent on Rafael’s kisses to remark on its treatment. It’s amazing how little it took for him to become addicted to the way Rafael kisses him, the way he uses his entire body. His hands never stop roaming, claiming. Tracing Sonny’s spine, measuring his hips, holding the back of his neck.

They shuffle blindly towards the bed, Sonny practically vibrating as Rafael’s sure fingers drop to make quick work of his belt and zipper. He attempts to give as good as he’s getting, as he wants nothing more than Rafael naked on his bed. Under him, over him, it doesn’t matter, so long as it happens soon.

It comes as a shock when Rafael is no longer kissing him. Sonny opens his eyes to the sight of Rafael sitting on the bed, chin tilted up and looking at Sonny with a challenge in his eyes. His shirt is open, baring his thick chest, and as Sonny watches with parted lips, Rafael slides his zipper down. His boxers do little to conceal the hard on underneath.

Sonny can’t stand it anymore. He roughly undoes the buttons of his own shirt, miraculously not popping any, and slides it off his shoulders.

“Don’t rush on my account, Carisi,” Rafael says as Sonny is pushing his pants down around his knees.

“Just trying to get to the good stuff,” he points out with a smile, bending down to finish taking off his pants. When he straightens up, Rafael is sitting right at the edge of the bed, his face tantalizingly close to Sonny’s tented boxers.

“This isn’t good?” Rafael asks, a whisper that tickles the sensitive skin across Sonny’s lower stomach. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind Sonny’s legs and draws him forward between his knees. Sonny swallows, fighting the compulsion to drop to the floor then and there, desperate to worship. Instead, he remains on shaky legs, enduring the exquisite torture of Rafael’s lips and tongue trespassing further down as he lowers Sonny’s boxers inch by inch. 

“It’s good, it’s so good.”

Rafael must hear him, if his wicked smile is any indication.

When Rafael finally teases the boxers over Sonny’s cock, he can’t take it anymore. He kicks off the last of his clothing and rolls Rafael back onto the bed, kissing the grin right off his face. Sonny manages to help Rafael strip off his pants without giving up his hold, not enough patience remaining to work Rafael out of his shirt, too. Rafael’s hands press and knead, stoking the fire and coaxing gasps from Sonny’s lips between strokes of his tongue. 

He’s too distracted by Rafael’s mouth to feel him shift, raising his knees and planting his feet for leverage. By the time Sonny notices, it’s already too late. In a rush of breath, Sonny is flipped onto his back, Rafael pushing up and rolling over to settle himself between Sonny’s legs.

“Objection,” Sonny pants.

“Overruled.”

He considers his position: laid out on a mattress and pillows he can’t afford, high thread count sheets like silk on his skin, and the most compelling man he’s ever known looking up the length of Sonny’s body, his green eyes dark with amorous intent.

Sonny can’t wait any longer. “Get up here, Rafael.” His words are just shy of begging, enough of a plea to draw Rafael towards him, Sonny’s hands fisting in the collar of his open shirt to guide him up the rest of the way.

From there, Rafael uses what he’s learned about Sonny to make him melt. Everything they’ve done prior to tonight set a sensual precedent and Rafael is putting that knowledge to good use. Biting gently at Sonny’s collarbones until he’s arching into the pressure, encouraging Sonny to thrust against him with one hand gripping his ass. Each touch is greedy, sure, possessive, and Sonny’s even more turned on by the consummate display. 

“You trying to kill me?” Sonny gasps, bucking into the hand Rafael has wrapped around his cock.

“Absurd,” Rafael responds to the allegation.

“You want me to beg?” The addition of _more than I already have_ goes unspoken.

Rafael leans down to meet Sonny’s lips. “Of course not,” he swears, before taking his mouth, groan reverberating deep in his chest when Sonny opens to him. Rafael kisses Sonny like he’s trying to make his case, thoroughly covering every inch so there’s no question he knows what he’s doing.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?” Sonny asks when he gets the chance, immediately regretting the outburst when Rafael backs off the bed and leaves him cold and wanting. Sonny stares open-mouthed while Rafael steps out of his dark green boxers and finishes removing his shirt; he makes the simple act of getting naked feel like a strip tease. Moments later, he’s crawling back onto the bed, settling with one knee on either side of Sonny’s hips.

Sonny’s hands move to claim territory on Rafael’s outer thighs, his thumbs stroking inward. He enjoys looking at Rafael in this position, admires the strong, confident man above him, wit razor-sharp and focus deadly even when they’re not on the job or in a courtroom. It’s not as if Sonny wants all that to disappear when they’re together—he wants this man and everything he is, though he appreciates the hints of softness in Rafael’s eyes when they’re intimate, exposing pieces of himself that no one else gets to see.

Sonny has revealed himself to Rafael, too. The counselor knows his weak spots, emotionally and physically. He draws from that well when he goes down on Sonny now, his mouth grazing rigid flesh. It’s a tease before the main event, intent on driving Sonny out of his mind with barely-there touches and whispers of breath. His tongue traces a vein before pulling away, strong hands pushing Sonny’s pale thighs apart and out of the way so he can really get down to business.

Rafael keeps it slow and languid as if they have all the time in the world and they’re not simply borrowing time between investigations and trial dates. Sonny wants to thrust up into Rafael’s mouth, demand more with his hips, but he knows all too well how that would backfire. How Rafael would slip off his cock with an open-mouthed smirk and Sonny would lose that heat completely. Better to let him take the reins—self preservation, really—because experience tells Sonny that whatever Rafael has in store for him is worth a little bit of patience, no matter how much it’s killing him. 

Green eyes watch Sonny struggle and finally settle, that gaze going hot and hazy when Rafael realizes he’s got control.

There’s no question that Rafael possesses a gifted tongue, yet no one sitting in a courtroom would ever be able to imagine just how far that talent goes. But Sonny does. The tricks his tongue can do...well, there ought to be a law against half of them, because it’s not fair how quickly Rafael can reduce him to panting and broken moans. Rafael sinks down over him, deeper each time until Sonny’s cock tests his limits. He hollows his cheeks when he pulls up and Sonny’s hips want to follow all that glorious suction.

Sonny used to get off to the idea of something like this—a gorgeous, imaginary man going down on him—but the real thing with Rafael is brutally pleasurable and nearly overwhelming. He takes cock like it’s everything, as if there’s nothing he enjoys more than sucking Sonny off. It’s hot and wet, and when their eyes meet across the length of Sonny’s body, Sonny’s cock stretching Rafael’s lips, Sonny almost takes the Lord’s name in vain.

Wanting something to hang on to, Sonny reaches out for Rafael’s hand. And when he finds it, Rafael doesn’t hesitate to allow him to thread their fingers together. He’s ground by the contact, no longer about to fly apart. With his other hand, Rafael squeezes Sonny’s thigh, desperation creeping into his technique. It pushes Sonny towards the edge, along with the shine of saliva caught in the corners of Rafael’s mouth, his lips pink. Sonny’s balls are drawn tight to his body like a rubber band ready to snap.

Sonny could live in this moment for an eternity; they’re connected to one another, giving and taking, and close to coming. When he feels himself begin to tip over, the telltale swoop in his stomach, Sonny tightens his grip on Rafael’s hand. With that warning, Rafael pulls off just in time to watch Sonny come across his stomach, his free hand stroking him through each pulse and shudder.

For a moment, Sonny floats weightlessly above the bed, the effects of his orgasm spreading throughout his body. He comes down gradually, limbs going heavy until he’s sinking back into reality and the warm weight of Rafael lying across his thighs, an expectant look in his eyes as if he’s waiting for Sonny to wise up and kiss him as a reward for a job well done. Sonny does so happily, drawing Rafael forward by the hand and leaning to meet him. Though his body feels like overcooked rigatoni, he grins against Rafael’s lips, amused by the fact that Rafael is careful not to smear the come on Sonny’s stomach.

The fastidiousness is a little charming. One day, Sonny wants to wreck this man so thoroughly that he’ll forget to care about the mess, but for now he’ll settle for letting Rafael reach for the tissues on the nightstand and clean Sonny’s skin while they’re still kissing.

Sonny wants to find meaning in the way their lips move together, ascribe emotions to the flick of Rafael’s tongue or the gentle way his takes Sonny’s lower lip between his teeth, but he’s distracted by Rafael’s cock rubbing against his hip. He wants to get his hands on it—something else to which he’s developed an addiction over the past few weeks.

Pulling away in the middle of a kiss, pretending his blood doesn’t sing at the small whine this draws from the counselor’s lips, Sonny’s mouth moves deliberately back along Rafael’s jaw until he’s whispering in his ear.

Feeling brazen, he tells Rafael, “I want to feel you fall apart.” His nose is filled with the scent of sweat from Rafael’s skin, sandalwood from his hair, and trace evidence of _Sonny_ on his lips. “Come on,” he urges, pulling Rafael against him and rocking their hips together.

“ _Carisi_ …” 

With anyone else, Sonny would be troubled hearing his last name in such an intimate moment, but Rafael fills it with enough warm, enough familiarity, that it sounds more like affection than distance. This is _them_ , and Sonny wouldn’t want it any other way.

He kisses his way down Rafael’s neck and smiles when the right amount of pressure has him thrusting forward with a groan. Sonny discovered this spot during one of his thorough investigations, the sensitive patch just above where Rafael’s neck meets his shoulder. Unable to resist, Sonny slips his right hand between their bodies and takes hold of Rafael’s cock. His palm is sweaty and gives Rafael a warm, slick channel to push himself into while Sonny encourages him with teeth and tongue along the side of his neck.

Rafael’s mouth is open, pressed against Sonny’s temple. He can hear breathy groans of cut-off Spanish mixed with colorful curses and Sonny’s last name, creating some of the most arousing sounds he’s ever heard. If he wasn’t so worn down by the trial and his trip to New Hampshire, Sonny might be able to go again. As it is, he’s more than content to hold Rafael like this. Like there’s nothing waiting for them outside this apartment.

He can feel how close Rafael is, how desperately he wants to come and how much pleasure he’s taking in the way Sonny’s hand is wrapped around him. Sonny wishes he could offer more, that he was ready to go beyond hands and mouths, yet he’s too afraid to ruin what they have by rushing.

Sonny is sated and oversensitive, but it feels amazing to have Rafael pressed against his chest, barely any space between them. He follows the rhythm of Rafael’s exhales, stroking him faster and adding a twist when he hears Rafael’s breath hitch in his lungs. Sonny’s other hand roams the naked length of Rafael’s back, skimming down to grab a handful of that thick, curved ass, then back up to hold Rafael’s neck, fingers pushing through his sweaty hair.

He angles his head up at the same time Rafael dips down and they’re kissing again. Messy, open affairs that betray how affected Rafael is and just how much Sonny wants him. There’s a moment when Sonny opens his eyes and sees Rafael looking at him with something close to awe before it’s gone, disappearing under a flutter of lashes.

They’re still kissing when Rafael comes, leaving his own claim on Sonny’s skin. He’s heavy in Sonny’s arms, legs trembling, and Sonny brings him down with soft strokes along his spine, kisses traded back and forth because neither one of them wants to stop until the warmth dissipates and they have no choice but to get up.

Sonny is reluctant to break the silence—feels like they’re under a spell—so he goes quietly when Rafael waves for him to use the bathroom first. When he’s finished, Rafael is waiting outside the door. They don’t kiss as they pass, but Rafael does let his fingers graze Sonny’s hip, his chin cocked over his shoulder to look back before he shuts the door.

Their nights together don’t follow a pattern. Sometimes it’s quick and frantic, burning a bad week out of their systems, and sometimes it’s slow and intense like tonight with sparks of a deeper connection taking hold. Not knowing what to do, Sonny pulls on his underwear and his shirt, leaving it open when he sits back on the bed and waits.

Rafael emerges wearing a gray terry cloth robe. The sight of his bare calves and exposed chest with its soft patch of hair is almost enough to signal to Sonny’s body that he’s ready for round two. He tamps down on the impulse and waits to see where this is going.

“It’s late,” Rafael says.

Sonny sighs. “I can go.” He’s about to stand when Rafael’s voice stops him.

“Or…”

“Or?” Sonny grins, keeping it soft in case he’s misreading the situation entirely. “You asking me to stay?”

“It’s probably not a good idea,” Rafael admits, “but yes, I do. I just…”

Sonny watches him struggle with what to say next—a rare occurrence, indeed—before jumping in.

“You don’t have to explain, not tonight. I promise, I get it. I’m just glad.”

“This won’t be easy.” Sonny glances over but Rafael is still standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at the floor. He won’t meet Sonny’s eyes when he adds, “I’m not...easy.”

Sonny shrugs. As usual, Rafael is five steps ahead of him in this relationship. “Nothing is easy, especially in our world. All I’m asking is that you be honest with me when you can, Rafael.” Sonny wants to make sure he’s directing the statement to the man, not the prosecutor who is more concerned with appearances and conflicts of interest. “Tell me you can do that, and I’ll do the same.”

Rafael finally meets Sonny’s gaze. “Then this is honestly all I can offer right now, Carisi. Stay the night and we’ll see what happens tomorrow morning.”

“I can do that,” Sonny says, holding himself in place though he’s desperate to rush over and take Rafael in his arms. His confession, however small, has Sonny feeling a little reckless. “You’re getting us coffee in the morning, though.”

“Obviously. I don’t trust you yet in caffeine-related matters.”

Rafael walks out of the bedroom and Sonny drops his head, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He can hear Rafael moving around the apartment, taking comfort in the sounds of papers being shuffled, the kitchen faucet running, lights being switched off. Sonny relaxes and by the time Rafael returns a few minutes later, he’s leaning back on the bed and smiling. Rafael hands Sonny his phone and sets his own on the opposite nightstand.

“Work?” Sonny asks, eying the files Rafael drops on the bed before sitting down.

“I do some of my best thinking after sex.”

“Seriously?”

In lieu of an answer, Rafael rolls towards Sonny, his fingers reaching across the space to skim down Sonny’s chest.

 _Stay the night_ , Sonny repeats over and over in his head as Rafael strips Sonny out of his shirt for the second time that evening. Under the robe, he sees that Rafael’s only wearing a pair of black, cotton shorts that have slipped low around his hips, and Sonny seriously considers dragging Rafael on top and mauling him because no one, not even Rafael Barba, should look that damn appealing in pajamas.

Rafael pulls away and settles against the headboard, files in his lap. Watching from his place beside him, Sonny imagines that he looks comfortable. Content. His mouth is relaxed and his eyes are clear and sharp as they scan the open file.

 _Stay the night_ , he hears again in Rafael’s low voice. Sonny feels a flutter in his chest and realizes it’s no longer that simple and that the counselor, as usual, was right.

This isn’t going to be easy. Nothing worth having ever is.

 

FIN


End file.
